


After the Rainstorm

by KangKorandKoloth



Series: A Series of Firsts [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, I Love You, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4319655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KangKorandKoloth/pseuds/KangKorandKoloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part three of a Series of Firsts: First I Love You</p><p>A fluffy scene between Shunsui and Nanao after a rainstorm</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Rainstorm

**Author's Note:**

> Part three of a Series of Firsts: First I Love You.
> 
> Probably just worth mentioning this is set before the current arc hence a or two reference to the Eighth division rather than the First. I hope you enjoy :D

She brushed his hair; long, wet, tresses hanging down his back as he sat obediently on the stool of her dressing table. He felt like a drowned rat. Cold drips of moisture rolling down the thin material of his robe, every so often making him shudder as they reached the small of his back. 

The petite figure behind him smelt of spring air and the rainstorm they’d found themselves caught in. Her hair almost dry, hunched up into a scruffy bun. She’d changed her clothes, now dressed in a yukata the color of a sunset in autumn. The clothes they had been wearing drying in the warm of the room.

He seemed to have caught the worst of it. The storm broke as they’d returned from an early evening walk. He'd grabbed hold of her, sheltering her from some of the downpour and rushing them back from whence they came. Back to the comfort of her room and the smoke of the brazier. Both of them soaked to the skin by the time he slammed the door on the torrent and they took in that first breath of warm air.

With each stroke of the comb he braced himself for the sensation of its sharp teeth against his scalp. It never came. Instead her fingers traced out knots and worked them away one stand at a time, her fingers methodical and nimble. Her chosen method pulled but wasn’t painful, she was being gentle. She always tried to be gentle.

He didn’t let people touch his hair, not normally anyway. In the past he'd discreetly move away when anyone had tried. He’d had enough of that as a child. Fed up by various members of his parent’s household rounding him up and subjecting him to a compulsory smarten up whether he wanted them to or not. Hairbrush in hand they'd command their young master to sit still and stop fidgeting. All the while Insisting that it couldn’t hurt as much as he was making out while they pulled the brush through unruly locks. The awareness of their actions tugging at his scalp was all encompassing only making him squirm more. His head aching by the time they were done.

He kept it short for a long time because of that. Put off by the hassle of hair that needed a lot of time and effort to look good. By the time he’d decided to grow it out he was more than capable of looking after it himself. A grown man in fact, motivated by some girl back at the academy who insisted it would suit him. She'd been right as well, he thought, although he was still picky about it. He didn't think there'd ever come a time when he wouldn't be. Seeing the barber was a necessary evil only undertaken to keep him looking his best. If he could have avoided it he would.

Nanao adored his hair, though she’d never admit it out loud, he couldn’t remember anyone else who seemed as intrigued by his hair as her. He’d often catch her running her fingers through it. Always during idle times when they were sat together, she taking her rightful place in his arms, the place where he liked her best. She'd wind the waves around her fingers, examining the way it fell and brushed it away from his face. He suspected this was just an excuse to touch him. His hair tie was always the first thing to go missing during other, more intimate moments between them.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t put up a fight when she picked up the comb and told him to stay still. As she continued with her task, he realized he’d had plenty of chances now to stop this. He could have politely halted her action if he didn't want her to do this. He knew she would have backed off if asked. She wouldn’t have minded. Well, maybe she would have minded; perhaps going so far as to be a little hurt. Yet, all the same, she would have respected his request and in return he would have bent over backwards to sooth any sadness. So why then, hadn’t he said no to her this time?

Perhaps it was another change she had orchestrated in him. She seemed to have a talent for it, letting them slide in without him noticing until they became an accepted reality. Like the way he now slept on the left side of the futon. This was partially due to practicality; there’d hardly be room for the both of them if he slept in the middle as he did before she started to share his bed. However, for him, it was also because the left was the side nearest the door. Just in case he told himself, knowing that anything he could think of for that just in case was improbable. Even so, he liked to be that barrier between her and that imaginary it. His logic had always been that whatever was out there, that monster in the cupboard as it were, had to go through him first. Just a sensible precaution he assured himself; out of the two of them he was the stronger, it made sense. He liked the idea he could protect her even when they were asleep.

Earlier nights were a part of those changes too; as he found himself spending less time out of an evening and more time in. Even if for some reason she couldn't be with him, he'd still find himself opting for a quieter night when he wouldn't have before.

He’d gained an appreciation for those evenings of domesticity. She could cook, unlike him and took delight in preparing his favorite dishes. He was surprised she paid as much attention to him as she did, aware of those small preferences he thought no-one knew but him. Both observant and a quick learner, then again he would have expected nothing less from her. Those fancy restaurants he liked to take her to in the early days had paled in comparison; the look on her face every time she discovered a dish he loved was priceless. It was something he secretly cherished, the way her eyes would shine, her face flushed with triumph. It was a vision he could never tire of, something money couldn't buy. 

It was pleasant to share his evening meal with her, just the two of them. Enjoying the comfortable lull between the end of working day and eventual bed time; often discussing their respective days. They'd share anecdotes about whom they’d seen and what they’d done. Sometimes, she'd let slip the occasional piece of gossip she’d gleaned from the WRSA or he'd share an interesting conversation he’d had with Jushiro. This time became more precious to him when they’d spent the day apart; something that happened much more often than he wanted. He liked to know she was okay when he wasn’t there, reassured she was happy and not lonely. That office could be a quiet place at times.

There'd been changes for her too, of course. She was beginning to loosen up with a bit of encouragement from him. He’d always known she’d had it in her, it only needing encouragement. Those bookwormish tendencies of her's went hand in hand with convincing her to spend long afternoons with him in the squad’s gardens. It took a little work but soon enough it became common place to have her join him on sunnier afternoons. To begin with she'd turn up a while after he'd settled for the day, citing flimsy reasons her for being there. Such a needing to ensure he was in the barracks or wanting a signature for some form. She soon dispensed with those pretexts much to his delight . Together they would become entwined in each other's company. She would sink into whatever tome she was reading, he all the while just happy to have her there. 

These were simple pleasures although, to him, they still had a luxurious quality to them. Someone had once told him that the finest things in life were the most simple. He would at at one have disbelieved that thinking someone who could say such a thing hadn't lived. But now he was beginning to understand what they'd meant. Now he had this woman to show him exactly how astounding simplicity could be. A part of him couldn’t believe it’d taken him this long to find that out or that he'd needed a helping hand, it was all so obvious now.

The cares of the were day melting away like ice under a flame now as the comb went through his hair. The stokes rhythmic and yet still tender.He wondered if this was what married life would be like with her. 

It hadn't been something he dwelled on all that often. Matrimony had never been an idea that had seemed relevant; a concept other’s idealized but not for him. The odd thought would pop into focus now and then but nothing more. The premise a world away from those things in life he enjoyed the most, or at least some of them. Marriage with Nanao, however, was a something that appealed to him. He found his thoughts drifting onto the idea again and again in contemplative moments. The fantasy intriguing to him; warmed his heart and gave him hope for the future. It could be argued he was enamored with the idea.

In his mind he had it all planned out. The two of them would settle in domestic bliss. He would provide for them, keeping his post as eighth division Captain and, somehow, she would be away from the Gotei Thirteen. 

Perhaps one day there’d be a way to do that, he mused. There may come a time when retirement or resignation would be an option without resorting to the Maggot's Nest. He had no doubt there would be if he could have a hand in it. Then there’d be no need for her to work. She could focus on the things she loved, whatever made her happy. He’d always suspected she put her dreams, her aspirations on the back burner in favor of duty and loyalty to the squad. As his lieutenant, there’d always been that unspoken knowledge between the two of them that she’d follow him to hell and back if he’d given the command. She was the silent figure keeping a safe distance behind him, the one helping him pick up the pieces if it all went wrong. He would always grateful for that. Even so, he wanted to see the time come for her dreams and for him to follow wherever she led, whatever turn that might take. After everything, she deserved the chance to do that.

He saw children for the two of them as well. Perhaps a daughter, he thought. If he were going to have children he’d always imagined a daughter rather than a son. A daughter like them both, he guessed. He could picture a scrappy little thing, with the elegance of her mother, her eyes, her smile and something of him, of course. Though in what way he’d want a child to take after him, he couldn’t begin to contemplate.

Nanao would make an excellent mother; he’d always known she would. She was a source of calm to him; even now the day's worries and stress far forgotten thanks to her. At work she was his sounding board, always his counsel; one of the few people whose opinions mattered most to him. His safety net. Children needed that. The need to feel safe, secure, he knew she could fulfill that role better than he ever could.

From behind he heard her humming, almost done with him. The way his hair was drying she'd find it difficult to carry on much longer, the chestnut waves thick and untamed. It was an absent minded sound, lost in her own thoughts it would seem. It was a familiar tune to him set to the count of three, yet one he’d not heard in a hundred years or so. It drummed up old memories of summers past, cold water and unrelenting heat. The scent of juniper. 

He preferred the rendition he heard of it from her now though. It overrode the older thoughts and interchanged them with the events of that evening. The glow of candle light and the warp of a towel around him as she tried to get them dry. Those tender ministrations and the realization there was nowhere else he wanted to be right now. Anything else this evening could have offered paled in comparison this this, he thought. It dawned on him just how much he needed these actions were right now.

He had always needed her. He told her that a lot; resulting in her rolling her eyes as if she didn’t quite believe him. It was true though, he needed her more than he’d needed anyone before past or present, maybe he didn’t show it enough. Back when she was only his lieutenant, he'd formed a rapid reliance on her way of doing things and how she kept him on task. In the last six months or so that need had become all encompassing. When she was away, he felt somewhat lost. Like a piece of himself was missing, not knowing what to do with himself. He'd go through the motions of his day, putting on a brave face until she returned and he felt whole again. 

Or perhaps she confused it with him wanting her. That was another thing he’d tell her often enough. He'd Pull her to him and whisper those sweet nothings into her ear. It was a poor an attempt to make her understand how enraptured she could render him. Never finding a better way to explain what a quirk of a smile or the brush of her hand against his could do to him.

Before, with other people, the concepts of needing and wanting had been, to a certain degree, separate in his mind. There were a lot of people who he could file into one category or another. He knew people he could rely on, the people he needed, just as much as he knew people whom he enjoyed having around. The ones he spent the most time with. The people he wanted. In his experience, few people fell into both categories. Nanao was one of them. She always had and he was finding that her presence in his life meant more to him day on day. It was an understatement to call what he felt for her an endearment on infatuation, perhaps it was at one point. Things ran deeper for him now. It had reached the extent that every breath he took was in adoration for this gentle, amazing woman, his Nanao-chan.

I love you. Those were words he’d not used in many years. Not since he was young. When those words didn’t hold so much weight, or they did, he just interpreted them in a different way back then. 

That old interpretation had meant he’d hurt people with those words before. Wounded them in a way he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. Any adult he’d ever respected had told him in the past never to take those words lightly. As a younger man he scoffed, learning the hard way just how right they were. From then on, he’d kept away from them, using them sparingly, for the few people who mattered most to him.

Now, in the candle light, as she placed the comb back on the table and drew closer to him, he felt those words might apply to her. He’d considered it for a while in fact but held back unsure at what her reaction might be. Not wanting to alienate her. It had becoming harder, almost impossible to keep those words to himself as time wore on though.

What would be the worst that would happen, if he were to let those words slip, he wondered? What would her reaction be? 

He liked to think, she'd be as happy to hear them as he would be to say them; it was the price of being a hopeless romantic, he supposed. He could run away with ideas of exuberant declarations, her falling into his arms with the weight of those words. The innocence of rose tinted glasses and idealism.

He couldn't overlook though, that possibility of things not going as he wanted. He could almost picture a kind smile and a gentle rebuff. The woman as kind as she ever was, would do anything not to hurt him like that. She was one to overthink, to worry about every interaction with another. The thought of causing hurt or offence abhorrent to her. Even worse though, would be for her to lie, to spare his feelings, to avoid hurting him. The last thing he wanted was her pity. A rebuttal like that would cut deeper than any flesh wound could. 

When you looked at it with a practical eye, the only way to answer those questions would be to tell her how he felt. He pondered whether now would be the time to do that, the atmosphere tranquil, the both of them at ease in their surroundings. It seemed risky to rock the boat and tarnish what had been a wonderful evening.

Although something would have to give. If it wasn’t now it would be sooner or later and he knew, deep down there was little point in delaying. Those words would slip pout otherwise when he wasn't as prepared. He knew, at the very least, she cared for him. He wouldn't be here, in this room, if she didn't. This fact buoyed him a little, generating a confidence, an affirmation for what he thought he wanted to do. If this was to be the time, then it was as good a time as any. Besides, he told himself, as if trying to cement things in his mind, why wouldn’t he want to share his feelings with the woman he knew he loved.

Convinced to an extent, he made up his mind, swallowed hard and gave thought to how exactly he was going to do this. A casual approach would be best, he decided, better for both of them. They were both adults, not love sick teenagers, and there was no need to make a big deal out of it, as tempting to him as that might be. All he was going to do was tell her three simple words nothing more. Besides, if it all went to hell, a sincere yet nonchalant statement would be easier to backtrack from than a big romantic gesture.

She made to stand up, comb in hand, his hair finished. He went to stop her, half wondering where she was off to, reaching out and catching the hem of her sleeve. If this was going to work the way he wanted, he needed her to sit back down again, wanting her as close as he could get her. She looked towards him, his actions having the desired effect.

“Sit with me a while?” he asked, trying to keep the tone of his voice level, hoping he didn’t sound over eager. 

"Let me put this away," she gesturing towards her bedside cabinet with the comb "It won't take a second"

"It can wait, I can't. Please?" he coaxed, wanting her in place before he lost his nerve. 

Giving him a look of slight confusion, she complied and joined him. He encircled her warm, slender, body; arms pulling her to him. She flinched the tiniest bit as he rested his head on her shoulder; the shock of wet hair touching the exposed skin at the nape of her neck. He murmured an apology into her shoulder, taking his time, enjoying having there once more.

The resulting silence that passed between them as they sat was comfortable, giving him space to think. He wanted that, taking the whole situation one step at a time knowing these things were best not rushed.

In the heat of the moment; he was as nervous as a sinner in church. He wondered if she could feel the beat of his heart, knowing it had sped up as soon as he lain hands on her. The usually steady beat pounded in his ears, erratic, an apprehension rising in his stomach. He took another deep breath, questioning why it took so much work to sum up the courage to say for so few words. A declaration had never generated such anxiety from him. 

Raising his head, he bought his lips closer to the shell of her ear. For a few moments he toyed with the idea of planting a kiss or two there, discarding it, knowing that it was only delaying his purpose. It would be best get the words out first. Once all was done and dusted, there would be plenty of time to demonstrate the depth of his affections.

So this was it then, no going back. He pulled himself together and whispered the words into her ear, thinking if worst came to worst then he could pretend she misheard. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up. It was his way of knowing just how much he meant them, how much he wanted her to feel the same way.

He felt her whole body stiffen as he finished that sentence and his heart sunk. The reaction telling him those words were not as welcome to her as he would like.

They remained motionless; he could feel her tense still, his body following suit. The atmosphere became heavy and uncomfortable almost instantaneously. So much for now was as good a time as any. He tried to decide on his next action. He'd be lying if he said her reaction didn’t hurt, it stung, more painful than he thought it could be. Trying to reassure himself, he thought up words of comfort. If he could gloss things over now then there would be other times, he consoled. He could a wait a while and try again. For now, a quick explanation and swift exit if he could manage it, were in order. She would need time to process things and he would benefit from some time to himself.

Rationality, kicked in. He bit back the urge to apologize and walk out that door without giving her a chance to respond. The instinct of fight or flight almost too strong to ignore. He needed to hear what she had to say though, knowing she hadn't actually confirmed his fears yet. He braced himself for the rebuttal, thinking the waiting was worse than whatever she would now say. 

Nanao turned to him, God only knew what the look on his face told her. Hers was filled with trepidation, the twist of some unknown expression at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes unusually clear from emotion. She Raised a hand to cup his jaw. An action he'd normally find himself doing to her and felt the sensation of the soft imprint of her thumb tracing the sharp angles found there, moving through stubble. 

Those split seconds dragged on, feeling like a lifetime. To his relief, she finally opened her mouth to speak. He felt his insides churn knowing what was to come. 

“I love you too”

That was unexpected. She could have knocked him down with a feather. Heady relief flooded his entire being, not quite believing what she'd just said. Words evaded him. He wanted to repeat that declaration to her until he was hoarse the words stubbornly refusing to materialize.

Her mouth was open; expectant of some response from him. Eyes searching, processing the light behind them dimming. He wondered if she thought she’d made a fool of herself. The thing he'd done to safeguard himself making her think she’d misjudged or misheard and jumped the gun. He needed to put her straight and fast before everything fell into farce, before her feelings were well and truly trampled underfoot.

“I love you” he repeated the words spoken finally out loud, he amazed at how easily they came when he needed them to.

She smiled, her whole body sinking into their embrace, looking the epitome of overjoyed. He preyed on her moment of complacency to place a kiss on those lips, in his mind a silent confirmation of everything he'd just said. The only other way to define his feelings to her. 

They sat and watched the storm through a rain streaked window. The candle glow merged their silhouettes into one, as the room fell into twilight the wax burning down to stumps. He felt at home, in his rightful place with the woman he loved.


End file.
